i miss maryland

Written by Laura Vance

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Written in the car on the terrible road trip my family took from Maryland to Utah the summer we moved. Much of it still applies.

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i miss the green. i miss how the summer evenings would embrace me with humid kisses that nestled comfortably in my cupid’s bow, just above my lips.

i miss how the trees would stretch to the sky, as far as my eyes dared to take me, a horizon of deep green fingers that were always reaching for god.

i miss the faintest taste of salt in the air that traveled the miles from its home in the bay, just to greet my nose after it rained, a perpetual reminder that i was never far from the water.

and the water, i miss the water; how the rain would paint craters on its canvas surface, the calm, whispering waves or the angry shouts that slapped against the rocks. how it could reflect the multicolored clouds and the sky’s golden sphere in a surly, intoxicating imitation of reality. it always smelled of salt and of home.

i miss how my forest would dance to the wind’s compositions, moving to notes only they could hear, a different opus for every moment.

and when it would get dark, i miss how the fireflies would flirt with the grass and branches, flickering and weaving as they pleased like earthbound stars.

i miss driving down the winding roads, the falling sun bowing to the vast fields of gold in her light that would peak through the thin tunnel of trees.

i miss when day met night, those few moments when magic was real because of our childhood memories, both remembered and forgotten in those same precious hours of dusk.

i miss how deep it was, how maryland could burrow in my chest and swim through my veins, the colors and the smells and it’s unbreakable connection to my soul.

now i drive through a vapid, two–dimensional wasteland. so muted, so dry, compensating it’s lack of life with coarse bumps in the terrain. embarrassing mimics of trees and lush grass peak through the desert floor. there are no memories, no thunderstorms to sing me to sleep. it is ugly. it does not welcome me, there are no embraces, no kisses.